


Kiss It Better

by syriala



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 02:12:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15109676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syriala/pseuds/syriala
Summary: There was a lot of bad blood between them now, but if Peter put these bandages on Derek, maybe there was still something left to salvage.“Did you kiss it better?” Derek asked, surprised at his own boldness but when he saw the softness that passed Peter’s face he thought he had made the right decision.“You nearly lost your arm,” Peter scolded him. “Those are not for show,” he shortly said and turned away, but Derek didn’t let him.





	Kiss It Better

**Author's Note:**

> So all these new gifs with [injured](http://bloody-bee-tea.tumblr.com/post/175402189651) and [incredibly soft](http://bloody-bee-tea.tumblr.com/post/175384880401) Tyler from his new movie gave me some feels and I needed to get them out.

Derek came to slowly. He took a few moments just to breathe and figure out where he was, familiar smells filtering in, before he opened his eyes.

He was in the loft, on his own bed, and Stiles was next to his bed, emerged in a book as it seemed.

“Stiles,” Derek croaked out and carefully pushed himself up.

He hissed when his right shoulder suddenly exploded in pain and Stiles was at his side a second later.

“Dude, take it easy,” he said but he helped Derek settle against the headboard.

Derek looked down at his chest, seeing the bandages around his shoulder and he rolled his eyes.

“You know I’m a werewolf, right? I don’t need these bandages,” Derek told Stiles and tugged at the corner of the bandage.

“Leave it,” Stiles said and slapped his hand away. “Peter said to keep them until you’re healed and he was very insistent about that.”

That brought Derek up short. He remembered vaguely that Peter had been there after Derek got hurt, had gotten him to the car, and to the bed, but it was all hazy and he knew he was missing chunks.

“Peter put them on?” Derek hesitantly asked, and Stiles didn’t even look back at him, too busy gathering his things.

“Yeah. Don’t even know why, really, since you know, werewolf and all. But he said to keep them, and to not leave you alone under any circumstance, but you’re awake now, so I guess that means I can finally leave,” Stiles rambled but Derek was barely even listening.

It was a thing Peter had done for him when Derek had been younger and that he could remember all too clearly.

Derek hadn’t understood why all the other kids got band-aids and bandages and sometimes even casts when they were hurt, and yet he never got any of those things when he hurt himself.

His mother had only always said that it would be a waste since he would heal too fast for it to really make a difference, but Peter had been different.

Peter had made sure that Derek got band-aids over his cuts, that he got bandages around whatever injury he came home with. Once he even took Derek to Deaton to get a cast, only to have to cut it off a day later, because Derek was already healed.

But Peter had never complained, and he always had a first aid kit ready.

Talia had scolded Peter more than once for it, but Derek had loved it. He had known that no matter how small his injuries were, Peter would take them seriously, would make sure that they were looked after and treated right, and he would always kiss the injury after he wrapped it up.

It had been their ritual and Derek was surprised how much it hurt to think about it now, knowing that Peter had done the same for him as he had when he was younger, but he couldn’t remember it.

When Derek came out of his thoughts Stiles was already halfway to the door when Peter entered.

“What are you doing?” he asked Stiles who just shrugged at him.

“He’s awake, you’re back, I’m leaving. I have better things to do than sit at his bedside,” Stiles said and pushed past Peter, out of the loft.

Peter glared after him, before he turned around to Derek.

“How are you feeling?” he asked and walked over to the bed.

“Better,” Derek gave back, carefully gauging his uncle’s expression before he decided to just risk it.

There was a lot of bad blood between them now, but if Peter put these bandages on Derek, maybe there was still something left to salvage.

“Did you kiss it better?” Derek asked, surprised at his own boldness but when he saw the softness that passed Peter’s face he thought he had made the right decision.

“You nearly lost your arm,” Peter scolded him. “Those are not for show,” he shortly said and turned away, but Derek didn’t let him.

“Peter,” he called him back. “Did you kiss it better?” he asked again, something urgent in his voice and Peter stepped closer to the bed, as if he couldn’t help himself, lightly trailing his fingers over the bandages.

“Of course I did,” he softly gave back, clearly thinking back to the same things Derek had thought about earlier.

“I don’t remember,” Derek told him. “Do it again.”

Peter looked at him for a few moments, and Derek wanted to squirm on the bed, thinking he had misread the whole situation, but then Peter bend down.

He carefully pressed his lips to Derek’s shoulder and whispered, “Get better soon,” something he had always said to Derek when he was done dressing his injuries and Derek couldn’t help but turn his head slightly until his face was pressed into Peter’s hair.

Peter had gone stock-still at his side, not moving away, barely even breathing and Derek felt tears well up in his eyes.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into Peter’s hair and Peter let out a shuddering breath.

“I missed you, too,” he gave back, turning his head so he could nose at Derek’s cheek.

Derek whined, high in his throat, but Peter was there, soothing him with a kiss to his cheek, his jaw, his lips and Derek leaned into it.

He felt like flying, finally having Peter’s lips on him and he couldn’t help the gasp when Peter pulled away.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered, suddenly desperate and afraid that Peter would get up and walk away again.

His hands shot out, jostling his shoulder but Derek paid the pain no mind, grabbing his uncle’s shirt.

“Don’t leave me again,” he repeated, but Peter wasn’t pulling away, he was crawling into bed with him, carefully maneuvering around Derek until he was resting on his good side.

“I’m not leaving,” Peter told him, pushing Derek down until he took the hint and curled into Peter’s side.

Peter wrapped his arms around Derek, one hand carefully resting on his shoulder, the other on his waist and Derek went boneless against Peter.

Peter was soft and warm, and smelled so familiar it almost hurt, and Derek finally felt at home again.


End file.
